


The Rise and Fall of Tom M Riddle

by Twylla17



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-04
Updated: 2017-02-12
Packaged: 2018-09-14 18:02:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9197297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Twylla17/pseuds/Twylla17
Summary: Tom Marvolo Riddle, he was once innocent. He was once human and like every other normal human had a life and knew fear. So how a child like him grew from a pitiful orphan to a Mass Murderer? It's a mystery to be known and very few attempt to try.





	1. The Birth.

**Author's Note:**

> So this will be a one shot series on the man Who-didn't-had-a-nose and could not be named even by half the wizarding community. That is in this, Harry Potter, world. The man who single handedly took over the wizarding world.
> 
> I will try to live up to a readers expectations. I can't guarantee. If you want to share any special fact about our dear Voldemort better known as You-know-who you can, in the reviews.
> 
> Excuse me for grammar. This isn't beta read.
> 
> The words in this fic are mine. The plot is mine. The characters, the locations mentioned and the sub plot is rightfully of Jk Rowling.
> 
> If there is anything from the books, it will be in italics and would also be the property of Jk Rowling.

Her hair was lank and dull and she had a plain, pale, rather heavy face. Her eyes stared in opposite directions. She looked like a bag of dirt and mud. People didn't acknowledged her presence, not that even she knew that she was going to change the future of these people who ignored her like a mote of dust.

She didn't carry the persona of someone important. She was rather ugly and looked like she wasn't even making an effort to smile. She walked like a corpse, neither seeing nor sensing anything or anyone around her. Her round belly was showing fully in her ragged, thin clothes. It didn't look like she cared though, staring into the distance with no way or sense as to where she wanted to go. People around her were shivering but they were happy. Even in the chill of December, the happiness and joy flowing from people, was not absent. They were chortling; they were singing; there were kids playing with snowballs. She didn't look like she belonged here, so what was she doing here? She didn't know and neither did anyone else.

The cold December air that pierced through even the warmest of coats didn't even make her flinch. She was walking through a bustling, old-fashioned London street. There was snow everywhere, but the woman didn't appear to be cold nor did she seemed to be caring for her unborn child.

"Miss!" a woman bellowed in her direction, the pregnant woman didn't seem to be hearing anything because she kept walking. Her dark eyes were hollow as dark tunnels.

"Miss!" The woman had reached her. She didn't turn around just stopped in one place. The woman looked rich. She was blonde and her robes looked shiny new peeking out a little from her coat. "Miss! There is a storm coming. You shouldn't be walking out in this condition."

She didn't seem to be hearing the woman as she stared blankly, dumbly at the snow. "Miss! If you want I can bring you to your home? This isn't safe for you and your child," the woman bellowed as a particularly cold gust of air hit her making her hat fly away.

"Home..."she whispered. "I don't have a home."

"Well Miss, you should get inside! There is a storm coming! A snowstorm!" The woman said, but didn't get a response in return.

"Rose!" someone else called. The kind women turned around, to see a man calling for her from a warm looking house. Two kids were waving at her near the window. Rose turned to face the pregnant woman again only to notice that she was watching her kids. Rose touched her shoulder to shake her out of it, finding it strange that the rugged woman was eyeing her kids as if she hasn't seen children before. But given the stranger's pregnancy, Rose thought the curiosity might be natural.

"Do you need food?" Rose asked her, but the girl just gave a little shake of her head. "You will be fine, Miss?" Rose asked again, recieving a dull nod as a reply. Rose finally walked away and the pregnant girl staggered ahead in her path, her feet numb from the snow. Several memories flew by her. Why had he left her? Didn't he love her...His child? Had she fallen in love with such a shallow man?

But she shook her head. Tom wasn't shallow. She was. She had him under the spell, under magic. Curse that magic! Why did she even have that?. First her father, then her brother and then her husband. A tear leaked out from the corner of her eyes as she moved forward not knowing where she was walking.

Would this child hate her too?

Suddenly she felt a little pain in her belly and then her water broke. She struggled to maintain her composure and leaned against the nearest door she could find, caressing her belly with her hand when suddenly the door swung opened against the weight of her fatigued body and she fell onto the ground.

A skinny, harassed-looking woman came scurrying toward her. She had a sharp-featured face that appeared more anxious than unkind, and she was looking at her with displeasure. But then her eyes moved towards her belly and she immediately shouted over her shoulder, "Madam Ella! There is a pregnant woman on the doorstep!"

"Why are you asking Cole? Get her inside!" came the reply came and Cole-the anxious woman asked her to sit up, but she couldn't.

The girl screamed as the pain grew and Cole called some more women from the dingy old house and they brought her inside. She couldn't pay attention to what they were saying through the blinding pain. All she did was scream for an hour and take heavy breaths as an older women instructed her, while she waited for the paint to end.

All of her worries and pain was paid off after an hour when she heard him cry. It was a boy. She had wanted a boy. The old woman-Ella-brought the baby to her and she felt something die inside her and live at the same moment. She looked at the baby in her lap. Unlike most babies she'd seen, he looked so calm.

"What's your name child?" The older women asked her, kindly.

"Merope Riddle," she gave a whispered reply as she couldn't feel the energy to raise her voice.

"Do you know you are at an orphanage?"

Merope didn't but she nodded,"I want him to be named Tom... after his father..."

Madam Ella looked distressed as she turned around where Cole was standing, eying her strangely.

"But why? You can name him yourself..." Cole soothed her.

"I can't," she said. For some reason Merope could feel she wouldn't be able to. "And his middle name should be, after my father, 'Marvolo'...His surname is Riddle.."

Merope felt herself slipping away as she looked at him. She could just feel it was her last time seeing him. Is this how dying felt? She could feel her legs losing energy and going still, she moved a little to kiss the forehead of her baby.

"I hope he looks like his father..."Her breath hitched, her heart gave one last beat and then everything went black.


	2. The First Meet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If he tried to take him forcefully, he would just choke Dumbledore on his own spit. Then Mrs. Cole won't send anyone. She won't be here anymore to send anyone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, all the parts in italics are the property of Jk Rowling. Excuse me if I haven't quite lived up to your expectations.

**_ The First Meet _ **

****Eleven years have passed since that fateful New year's Eve when Merope Riddle gave birth to Tom Marvolo Riddle at the door of Wool's orphanage. There was no sign of him at the Wool's orphanage between laughing children.

Mrs. Cole, a thin, harassed-looking women with a sharp face, walked around the dingy old orphanage shouting orders at everyone on the staff. Being a Matron at a orphanage was hard work.

The orphanage hadn't changed in eleven years. Only the year printed on the tattered calendar in the dining room was proof that time had passed. Tom Marvolo Riddle wasn't a baby anymore. He was a young, grown, healthy child living at the old orphanage. He had Black hair; they were always sleek and his dark eyes were either curious when he found something new about himself or full of hate for the children that lived with him because they didn't liked him and nor did he. Locked in his room, he was supposed to be serving his detention for stealing Bernie's shoes. He could argue that Bernie was a wimp and a liar but then the matron wouldn't believe him. She never did. Cole didn't trust him.

Currently, Tom was concentrating on the window directly below his own window. It was the kitchen window. He focused with all of his might when suddenly a plate of fruits came floating out of the kitchen window. He looked around, and saw no one watching. There was no noise to indicate someone spotted the levitating dish, and so he concentrated on the plate again. It flew into his open hands. He happily held the snack, a smile gracing his features as he imagined the angry face of Mrs. Cole again. He had yet again managed to sneak food in his detention.

Tom did not liked Mrs. Cole. She always kept an irritatingly close watch on him. Cole just couldn't understand that he was special. She always asked him how he managed to sneak food in and he had told her a thousand of times that it came to him. She didn't believe him. The woman considered him abnormal and always watched him with hawk-like eyes, as if expecting him to admit he was Satan and he came here to give her hell. Well the last part wasn't a lie; he did want to give her hell.

As his mouth watered at the sight of freshly ripened apples and oranges, his eyes found something else to concentrate onto. A funny looking man was standing in front of Mr. Creevey's bun shop which was across the road from the Wool's orphanage, where Tom lived. Tom carefully put the plate of food on his bedside table and returned to the window, leaning forward to get a good look at the stranger. He was unusually tall, with long, auburn hair and beard. The strangest thing of all, though, was his suit. The plum velvet material was cut flamboyantly and was drawing the stares of many passersby.

Tom narrowed his eyes suspiciously, noting that the man was looking only at the orphanage. Was he someone's lost relative? Lost relative was the term everyone used for the people who left their children here because they couldn't afford them and then came back to take them again because they could. Who was he here for? Amy? She didn't had auburn hair. Stubbins? He had auburn hair but he was thin and meek. Unlike this man whose personality oozed importance. Maybe he wasn't a lost relative.

In his curiosity, of this new stranger, Tom didn't notice that he had absentmindedly allowed himself to float out into the air, leaving only his legs to balance on the window frame. Tom wasn't surprised; it was nothing new. As he returned his gaze to the odd man, Tom quickly pulled himself inside. He took a bite of an apple and wondered what that man was doing here. Two minutes later, there was a sudden knock at the front door. Feeding into his curiosity, Tom crossed the room and pressed his ear to the dorm's door, listening to the muffled exchange downstairs.

"Let him in, Martha!" Mrs. Cole shouted. Tom looked out from the keyhole and saw Mrs. Cole walking down the staircase and vanishing from his sight. He looked around, as much as he could from the keyhole, there was no one. Thus he opened the door silently and walked to the top stair of the staircase as fast as he could.

_"My name is Albus Dumbledore. I sent you a letter requesting an appointment and you very kindly invited me here today."_

Tom heard the man say, his voice was gentle yet sharp. He wanted to hear more but then he saw Martha coming up and he quickly rushed back to room.

When Martha passed his door without checking on him, he knew she went to check on stubbins and his nasty chicken pox. So Tom waited for another ten minutes to be sure the coast's was clear. He usually knew the schedule and memorized when he could sneak out. He got out again, after ten minutes, and went all the way down towards Ms. Cole's office. He stood just near her door.

_"He scares the other children."_ He heard her say and he knew in an instant that she was talking about him. Nasty tattletaler! His anger surfaced; his hands turned into fists. He wanted to knock something over but no, he wanted to hear more. What if this man was here to take him? Take him where? To the asylum?

_"You mean he is a bully?" asked Dumbledore._ Tom frowned. So what if he was? He had power,so he used it. Others didn't and they suffered for it. Nasty common people. Just because they can't have the power, they don't want anyone else to have it.

_"I think he must be," said Mrs. Cole, frowning slightly, "but it's very hard to catch him at it. There have been incidents... nasty things ..."_

_"Billy Stubbs's rabbit... well, Tom said he didn't do it and I don't see how he could have done, but even so, it didn't hang itself from the rafters, did it?"_

_"I shouldn't think so, no," said Dumbledore quietly._

Why was Cole giving him his information? She didn't really do this people who came for adoption. She only did this with...Tom went stark white. Cole had told all this to Benson's doctor. Dumbledore was a doctor. He was here to take him. Tom wasn't mad! His heart thumped loudly in his ears. She would pay for this. Even Amy hadn't made him this angry when she had called him a freak. She had paid for it. Cole would pay, too.

_"But I'm jiggered if I know how he got up there to do it. All I know is he and Billy had argued the day before. And then-"Mrs. Cole took another swig of gin, slopping a little over her chin this time, "on the summer outing-we take them out, you know, once a year, to the countryside or to the seaside-well, Amy Benson and Dennis Bishop were never quite right afterwards, and all we ever got out of them was that they'd gone into a cave with Tom Riddle. He swore they'd just gone exploring, but something happened in there, I'm sure of it. And, well, there have been a lot of things, funny things..."_

_She looked around at Dumbledore again, and though her cheeks were flushed, her gaze was steady._

_"I don't think many people will be sorry to see the back of him."_

Of course they wouldn't. Tom knew people didn't like him here.

_"You understand, I'm sure, that we will not be keeping him permanently?" said Dumbledore. "He will have to return here, at the very least, every summer."_

Tom pursued his lips thoughtfully and his mind at once began to form a plan to run away. Maybe he could make the man float out of his way? He hadn't done magic on any human before. Maybe he could choke him on his own beard. Yet none of his plans seemed foolproof. He needed to find a way out. Maybe he'd just float himself out.

_Oh, well, that's better than a whack on the nose with a rusty poker," said Mrs. Cole with a slight hiccup. She got to her feet. "I suppose you'd like to see him?"_

Tom rushed up the stairs at once.

_"Very much," said Dumbledore, rising too._

Tom heard the man's word. If he tried to take him forcefully, he would just choke Dumbledore on his own spit. Then Mrs. Cole won't send anyone. She won't be here anymore to send anyone.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta credits- Whirdart.


	3. The Milestone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom wants to choke Dumbledore on his beard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not really. He didn't choke Dumbledore on his beard nor this is is a crack fic.

_"Here we are,"_ Tom heard Mrs. Cole say. He heard Dumbledore walking forward towards the door of his own room. Tom, at once, took a comfortable position. He stretched out his legs on his bed and covered himself with a blanket then took a book out. You never show them fear or they will feed on it. He had learned this very early when Cole had started threatening williams to shut up with his fear of never getting adopted. Cole never knew Tom's fears, thus she was never able to manipulate him and maybe that's why he hated Cole. She was a manipulator, he didn't liked manipulators. If the doctor tried to take Tom forcefully, he was going to have a hard time with Tom. Mrs. Cole spoke again...

_"Tom? You've got a visitor. This is Mr. Dumberton-sorry, Dunderbore. He's come to tell you-well, I'll let him do it."_

_Dumbledore entered the room, and Mrs. Cole closed the door on them. It was a small bare room with nothing in it except an old wardrobe and an iron bedstead._

_There was no trace of the Gaunts in Tom Riddle's face. Merope had got her dying wish: he was his handsome father in miniature, tall for eleven years old, dark-haired, and pale. His eyes narrowed slightly as he took in Dumbledore's eccentric appearance. There was a moment's silence._ Tom remained impassive.

_"How do you do, Tom?" Dumbledore asked him, walking forward and holding out his hand._

_Tom hesitated,_ should he take it? He looked at it uncertainly and  _they shook hands. Dumbledore drew up the hard wooden chair beside Riddle, so that the pair of them looked rather like a hospital patient and visitor._

Tom kept a close eye on Dumbledore's movements.

_"I am Professor Dumbledore."_

_"'Professor'?" repeated Riddle. He looked wary. "Is that like 'doctor'? What are you here for? Did she get you in to have a look at me?"_ Instead of looking as if he were caught, Professor Dumbledore just smiled at Tom, warmly.

He _was pointing at the door through which Mrs. Cole had just left._ The old cat! Tom had always known one day that woman would try this. To get rid of him.

_"No, no," said Dumbledore, smiling._ Liar. What did he think Tom was? A child? He wasn't a child. Children couldn't do the things he could. Tom's blood boiled as Dumbledore looked down at him. He was lying and Tom knew it.

_"I don't believe you," Tom told him rashly. "She wants me looked at, doesn't she? Tell the truth!"_

_He spoke the last three words with a ringing force that was almost shocking. It was a command, and it sounded as though he had given it many times before. His eyes had widened and he was glaring at Dumbledore, who made no response except to continue smiling pleasantly._

Tom waited for Dumbledore to answer him, to tell him that Dumbledore really was a doctor, to tell that Mrs. Cole wanted Tom institutionalized or sedated.. Suddenly Tom realized what he was doing. He was acting like a child. He was showing too many emotions. He was showing fear. After  _a few seconds Riddle stopped glaring, though he looked, if anything, warier still._ Dumbledore continued to smile. It was getting irritating. So Tom decided to try a different approach.

_"Who are you?" Tom asked_ very calmly as if he just hadn't thrown a tantrum and was instead a perfect gentleman.

_"I have told you. My name is Professor Dumbledore and I work at a school called Hogwarts. I have come to offer you a place at my school-your new school, if you would like to come."_ There, he said it. He was going to take him to the asylum. Tom was going to kill the old bat. How dare she!  _Riddle's reaction to this was most surprising. He leapt from the bed and backed away from Dumbledore, looking furious._

_"You can't kid me! The asylum, that's where you're from, isn't it? 'Professor,' yes, of course-well, I'm not going, see? That old cat's the one who should be in the asylum. I never did anything to little Amy Benson or Dennis Bishop, and you can ask them, they'll tell you!"_ Tom didn't have control over his words anymore. What would they do to him? Give him electric shocks to make him normal? Murder him? Make him work? Lock him? Make him a beggar? He had heard the worst thing about asylums. About what type of kids were taken there. He wanted to go away from here but not to the asylum.

_I am not from the asylum," said Dumbledore patiently._ Tom's breath came out ragged. If he didn't want no one would take him anywhere. He would make this man choke on his beard if he tried anything.  _"I am a teacher and, if you will sit down calmly, I shall tell you about Hogwarts. Of course, if you would rather not come to the school, nobody will force you -"_

_"I'd like to see them try," sneered Riddle._

_"Hogwarts," Dumbledore went on, as though he had not heard Riddle's last words, "is a school for people with special abilities -"_

_"I'm not mad!"_ Tom screamed at him.

_"I know that you are not mad. Hogwarts is not a school for mad people. It is a school of magic."_

_There was silence. Riddle had frozen, his face expressionless, but his eyes were flickering back and forth between each of Dumbledore's, as though trying to catch one of them lying._ Magic, he says. Was it magic he could do? Was that the reason he was different? There was a school for it...Oh who was he kidding. Magic wasn't real. It's what circus people did by using a little bit of intellect and imagination. But there was so much he could do, things that no one could explain, which is why he got away with so much here at the orphanage. Tom wanted to believe Dumbledore so badly that he had to ask. Tom had to make him say it again.

_"Magic?" he repeated in a whisper._ Although Tom wasn't sure about this man. He was sure he himself wasn't normal. No other child he had met could do what he could.

_"That's right," said Dumbledore._

_"It's... it's magic, what I can do?" Tom asked curiously._

_"What is it that you can do?"_

_"All sorts," breathed Riddle. A flush of excitement was rising up his neck into his hollow cheeks; he looked fevered._ He wanted to tell Dumbledore everything. If it was magic he could do and Dumbledore was from a school of magic. Dumbledore could take Tom away from this dingy orphanage."  _"I can make things move without touching them. I can make animals do what I want them to do, without training them. I can make bad things happen to people who annoy me. I can make them hurt if I want to."_

Pride rushed through him. Surely Dumbledore must be impressed, too. Tom was so happy that he couldn't stand anymore. His legs gave out, making him sit on the bed again. Tom didn't mind, though. Tom just stared at his hands, his magical hands.

_"I knew I was different," he whispered to his own quivering fingers. "I knew I was special. Always, I knew there was something."_ Tom couldn't believe his luck. He could do magic. He was special. Special than Lucas, who was adopted last month and who had jabbed at him a whole day about being so abnormal that no parent would even want to come near him. Tom wanted to show Lucas this now. He was more special than Benjy who had stolen Sheena's clothes once and then blamed Tom. Benjy was Mrs. Cole's favorite too. Mrs. Cole had believed him because Tom had been caught stealing before.

Tom, finally, looked at Professor Dumbledore, expecting a look of awe on his face, but it wasn't there. Instead, he appeared to be studying Tom, evaluating Tom.

_"Well, you were quite right," said Dumbledore, who was no longer smiling, but watching Riddle intently. "You are a wizard."_

_Riddle lifted his head. His face was transfigured: there was a wild happiness upon it, yet for some reason it did not make him better looking; on the contrary, his finely carved features seemed somehow rougher, his expression almost bestial._

_"Are you a wizard too?" Tom asked._

Tom couldn't just believe anyone who thought he was special. He should have asked for a proof long ago. Yet the happiness bubbling inside Tom didn't stop him from thinking about magic.

_"Yes, I am."_

_"Prove it," said Riddle at once, in the same commanding tone he had used, "Tell the truth."_ If the man could do it, then Tom would believe him.

_Dumbledore raised his eyebrows. "If, as I take it, you are accepting your place at Hogwarts-"_

_"Of course I am!" Tom said excitedly._ __Dumbledore was really dense. How could Tom not accept Dumbledore's offer? It was a once in a lifetime opportunity!

_"Then you will address me as 'Professor' or 'sir.'"_ Tom didn't like this. Why would he give someone respect? Respect is earned not demanded. Tom hated when grown ups spoke like that. Dumbledore was patronizing him. Tom could feel it, but he put aside his dislike and faked his most charming smile that he used while meeting potential parents and always charmed them. It would have worked in getting him adopted, but Mrs. Cole always butted in, told them about the things she thought Tom did. Tom really did do them, but it didn't give Cole the right to tell his future parents about them. Tom spoke to Dumbledore again, this time using his most flattering voice.

_Riddle's expression hardened for the most fleeting moment before he said, in an unrecognizably polite voice, "I'm sorry, sir. I meant-please, Professor, could you show me-?"_

_Dumbledore drew his wand from an inside pocket of his suit jacket,_ was that a wand? Tom looked closely at it. Would he get one too? Will this be like those witches and wizards he had read about in his books? He tried to imagine Dumbledore with a cat, on a broomstick, cackling. For some reason, he found the image absurd.  _Dumbledore pointed at the shabby wardrobe in the corner, and gave the wand a casual flick._

_The wardrobe burst into flames._

_Riddle jumped to his feet; Dumbledore could hardly blame him._ He hadn't seen this before. He hadn't even done it before.  _But even as Riddle rounded on Dumbledore, the flames vanished, leaving the wardrobe completely undamaged._

_Riddle stared from the wardrobe to Dumbledore; then, his expression greedy, he pointed at the wand. Very carefully he asked, "Where can I get one of them?"_

_"All in good time," said Dumbledore. "I think there is something trying to get out of your wardrobe."_

_And sure enough, a faint rattling could be heard from inside it. For the first time, Riddle looked frightened._ Oh no. Was this man not going to take him just because he had stolen those things?

_"Open the door," said Dumbledore._ It was more like he commanded.

_Riddle hesitated, then crossed the room and threw open the wardrobe door. On the topmost shelf, above a rail of threadbare clothes, a small cardboard box was shaking and rattling as though there were several frantic mice trapped inside it._

_"Take it out," said Dumbledore._

_Riddle took down the quaking box. He looked unnerved._

_"Is there anything in that box that you ought not to have?" asked Dumbledore._

_Riddle threw Dumbledore a long, clear, calculating look._ Should he tell the truth? Well it won't matter. The man was an accomplished mage, what if he could see in Tom's mind? Was that even possible? But if the man hadn't run away after Mrs. Cole told him about Amy and Dennis then maybe he will ignore this too.  _"Yes, I suppose so, sir," Tom said finally, in an expressionless voice._

_"Open it," said Dumbledore._

_Riddle took off the lid and tipped the contents onto his bed without looking at them. Inside was a mess of small, everyday objects: a yo-yo, a silver thimble, and a tarnished mouth organ among them. Once free of the box, they stopped quivering and lay quite still upon the thin blankets._

 

It didn't seem like much, but it was all Tom had, even though it wasn't really his own. He would play with each thing in his room, away from the other children. It wasn't much, but he enjoyed himself. In that moment, Tom didn't like Dumbledore much.

Tom supposed Dumbledore wanted him to feel something like remorse or shame or maybe even guilt, but all he felt was anger. He was making Tom give up things that he cherished, when he had nothing to his name. All the things in Tom's room weren't really his. The clothes in his closet belonged to the orphanage and would be taken away once he turned eighteen, because he knew he wouldn't get adopted. When he went to Hogwarts, he would have nothing. He would be humiliated again.

_"You will return them to their owners with your apologies," said Dumbledore calmly, putting his wand back into his jacket. "I shall know whether it has been done. And be warned: thieving is not tolerated at Hogwarts."_

_Riddle did not look remotely abashed; he was still staring coldly and appraisingly at Dumbledore._ __Why did the man think he could order him around? _At last he said in a colorless voice, "Yes, sir."_

_At Hogwarts," Dumbledore went on, "we teach you not only to use magic, but to control it. You have - inadvertently, I am sure-been using your powers in a way that is neither taught nor tolerated at our school. You are not the first, nor will you be the last, to allow your magic to run away with you. But you should know that Hogwarts can expel students, and the Ministry of Magic-yes, there is a Ministry-will punish lawbreakers still more severely. All new wizards must accept that, in entering our world, they abide by our laws."_

Dumbledore saw right though Tom's innocent expression. Tom knew Dumbledore would watch him closely, very closely. This made Tom both scared and angry. Professor Dumbledore was a force to be reckoned with and Tom gathered that the professor shouldn't be underestimated, but Tom knew that he could out smart Dumbledore—keep under his radar. Tom was cunning and resourceful. It would be easy. Tom didn't voice his thoughts.

_"Yes, sir," said Riddle again._ There was a ministry too? Why hadn't they taken him out of here? Wasn't he special enough? And then another thought hit him. He didn't have any money. If there was a ministry of magic then they would have their own economy. Couldn't he magic his money out? Why did they need money anyway? They could just study without it. Magic could do anything right? So many questions swarmed through Riddle's mind.

_Yet, It was impossible to tell what he was thinking; his face remained quite blank as he put the little cache of stolen objects back into the cardboard box. When he had finished, he turned to Dumbledore and said baldly, "I haven't got any money."_

_"That is easily remedied," said Dumbledore, drawing a leather money-pouch from his pocket."those who require assistance to buy books and robes. You might have to buy some of your spellbooks and so on secondhand, but -"_

_"Where do you buy spellbooks?" interrupted Riddle, who had taken the heavy money bag without thanking Dumbledore, and was now examining a fat gold Galleon._ Gold? he could buy so much from this single coin alone. But if it was wizarding money then he won't have any advantage of gold because everyone will have it.

_"In Diagon Alley," said Dumbledore. "I have your list of books and school equipment with me. I can help you find everything -"_

_"You're coming with me?" asked Riddle, looking up._

Dumbledore taking him to buy things? He will probably stop him from buying anything except books and robes. There were so many new things he was sure he could buy and he was sure Dumbledore won't let him.

_"Certainly, if you -"_

_"I don't need you," said Riddle. "I'm used to doing things for myself, I go round London on my own all the time. How do you get to this Diagon Alley-sir?" he added, catching Dumbledore's eye._

Tom thought Dumbledore would teach him a lesson by tagging along anyway. The man was used to people following him; Tom could see it.  _Dumbledore handed Riddle the envelope containing his list of equipment, and after telling Riddle exactly how to get to the Leaky Cauldron from the orphanage, he said, "You will be able to see it, although Muggles around you-non-magical people, that is-will not. Ask for Tom the barman-easy enough to remember, as he shares your name -"_

_Riddle gave an irritable twitch, as though trying to displace an irksome fly._ Great, now there was a barman named as him.

_"You dislike the name 'Tom'?"_

_"There are a lot of Toms," muttered Riddle. Then, as though he could not suppress the question, as though it burst from him in spite of himself, he asked, "Was my father a wizard? He was called Tom Riddle too, they've told me."_

He really hoped he was. He wanted to know that if his father was a wizard then why was he in a muggle orphanage?

_"I'm afraid I don't know," said Dumbledore, his voice gentle._

_"My mother can't have been magic, or she wouldn't have died," said Riddle, more to himself than Dumbledore. "It must've been him. So-when I've got all my stuff- when do I come to this Hogwarts?"_

He wanted to bolt right out but he controlled his curiosity until Dumbledore left. 

_"All the details are on the second piece of parchment in your envelope," said Dumbledore. "You will leave from King's Cross Station on the first of September. There is a train ticket in there too."_

_Riddle nodded._ Dumbledore then held out his hand and as Tom shook it, he found himself distrusting Dumbledore. The professor seemed to be a pleasant enough man, but he obviously didn't trust Tom and he was suspicious of Tom's intentions. Tom was going to keep an eye on Dumbledore as Dumbledore was on Tom.

Even though he didn't trust Dumbledore, Tom found that his curiosity and need to impress the man took over. At last he finally spilled the his final secret that he could talk to snakes. Dumbledore gave him a strange look. Tom understood that it was unusual. But Dumbledore assured him that although it was rare, it was not unheard of. Soon, Dumbledore left leaving Tom with his thoughts.

He had just discovered he was a wizard. He had gotten a lot of money. He had found that there was another world out there.

Was this even real? Tom smiled as he heard the main door shut. He looked at the bag of gold and at once hid it then went to change his clothes.

He was not going to live here anymore. He was finally getting rid of Mrs. Cole and this orphanage.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please review! :)


	4. The Goblin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom at once knew who had stolen it. His eyes narrowed to slits and he followed the Goblin inside.

Tom woke up early next day. He was too excited to see what was Diagon Alley to sleep anyway. Mrs. Cole tried to tag up with him to buy his books but he shook her off. The other children were grumbling as to why they were never called to this school. Charlie Hart said that maybe they were secretly luring Tom into an asylum because he was so abnormal. Tom considered it for a second but then shrugged. If Dumbledore wanted to lure Tom, Dumbledore could have simply adopted him.

Tom grabbed the bag of gold that Dumbledore had left. How much he could buy from the muggle area of the England out of it but he wasn't sure about the wizarding world. Muggle economy could give him a lot of cash for gold but Wizarding, he wasn't sure. Slowly and silently after locking his room he opened the letter.

**_HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY_ **

_UNIFORM_

_First-year students will require:_

_1\. Three sets of plain work robes (black)_

_2\. One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear_

_3\. One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)_

_4\. One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings)_

_Please note that all pupils' clothes should carry name tags_

_COURSE BOOKS_

_All students should have a copy of each of the following:_

_The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1) by Miranda Goshawk_

_A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot_

_Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling_

_A Beginners' Guide to Transfiguration by Emetic Switch_

_One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi by Phyllida Spore_

_Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger_

_Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander_

_The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection by Quentin Trimble_

_OTHER EQUIPMENT_

_wand cauldron (pewter, standard size 2) set_

_glass or crystal phials_

_telescope set_

_brass scales_

_Students may also bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad_

_PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS_

Tom's eyes bugged out at the mention of pointy hats. They were going to make him wear pointy hats and then what ? Make him learn how to cackle?The happiness Tom felt inside him at the mention of books indescribable. Spells, charms, beasts and what was transfiguration? He also found the note that said he was not allowed a broomstick. It confused him a little. Couldn't you just fly without a broomstick?

The Leaky Cauldron wasn't half as clean as he'd pictured it. True, when considering its name it was sure to be substantially less clean than Mrs. Cole's office-which was always dirty as she always had drinks in there with her friends and forgot to clean, but he'd expected better than a pigsty, at least. The floorboards were blackened with stains and though the tabletops weren't half as unpleasant, a smattering of leftover crumbs and spilled drinks made it obvious that the pub was in need of a waitress or ten. Behind him, Tom could see people walking past the front door, blind to this dirty but miraculous gateway to another world.

The world Tom Riddle belonged in.

The Leaky Cauldron may have been sour smelling and dirty, but Tom felt the magic as soon as he stepped across the threshold, felt the hairs on his arms stand on end, his mind crying 'Yes, yes, yes! This is it! This is where I am supposed to be!' blowing away the shadow of skepticism that remained. There were witches reading newspapers in which the pictures moved and wizards who were absentmindedly rotating their finger above the cup of tea and the spoon inside the cup moved in similar motions.

A wide-shouldered man stood at the bar, polishing a mug with a rag. Reluctantly, Tom went up to the man.

"Are you the barman?" Tom asked, refusing to acknowledge his name. It was average name and Tom was certainly anything but average. He refused to be average.

The man looked up, setting the mug down on the counter. "Hogwarts?"

Tom nodded shortly.

"Follow me, then."

The barman led Tom through the bar into a small, walled courtyard and pulled out his wand. Tom eyed the length of wood greedily, frowning at the wall. Was the man having him on? Was that professor a part of the joke?

"Watch and remember, lad," said Tom the barman, pointing his wand right above the small trashcan. "Three up. Two across." The bricks quivered in their places then shuffled out and away until a clear passage to the alley beyond had been made.

Tom stared breathlessly.

Diagon Alley was magnificent. Incredibly cramped, but no less stunning for it. Everywhere he looked people were wearing robes—some black, some green, some in the most outrageous patterns he had ever seen. Without thanking the barman, Tom stepped into the crowd, wishing he had about eight more eyes. There was a shop that sold broomsticks and an apothecary that sold livers, claws, flesh, strange flowers and bubbling, brightly colored concoctions. There was a pet store that sold owls, bats, black cats, rainbow-feathered birds and hissing, jewel-scaled lizards. There were so many things he wanted to see and his two eyes couldn't really process so much. Diagon Alley was a heaven.

Tom was so mesmerized by the view, walking aimlessly and gaping at everything, that he walked into someone. Tom rubbed at his chest where the child had happen to knock into him or vice versa. But when Tom looked up, it was no child. Standing beside the burnished bronze doors of a snowy white building, wearing a uniform of scarlet and gold, was a goblin. The goblin was about a head shorter than Tom. He had a swarthy, clever face, a pointed beard and, Tom noticed, very long fingers and feet. The goblin grunted at him.

"You are a goblin,"Tom told him, dumbfounded. The goblin was the only thing he had seen in the muggle world, in his old picture books, which was same as the wizarding world and the similarity left him agape on the street in front of the goblin. Tom kept staring at him. A goblin? he still couldn't believe.

The goblin though wasn't as awed as Tom was. He looked like he would like nothing more than to take a straw and shove it up Tom's nose. Tom at once closed his mouth getting the message that the goblin wasn't in the mood to exchange pleasantries and went to move past the goblin to check out the building behind him. The goblin grunted again and Tom had a rising suspicion that the goblin was expecting something from him. As soon as Tom had reached the last stair the goblin finally barked at him," Your parents never taught you manners boy?" The goblin sneered at him, his lips curled in disgust. "Look who I am talking to anyway, filthy wizards. The imbeciles."

The goblin said all those words with such disgust that even Mrs. Cole couldn't match it if she tried. Tom at once came down the stairs and stood in front of the short creature. Taking advantage of his height, Tom tried to look intimidating instead of awe-struck..

"Do you need something Mister.?" asked Tom, scathingly. The goblin looked him up and down, his eyes stopping on the bag of coins, at which the goblin glared more menacingly than before. The goblin was about to say more but then a woman pushed past them, knocking Tom and the goblin aside.

"You filthy, witch!" the goblin roared in anger and followed her inside. Tom sighed gravely and reached for the pocket where he kept the bag of gold, but found it empty. Tom urgently searched all his pockets but there was nothing. Where had his money gone?

_His eyes then darted towards the second pair of doors, silver this time, with words engraved upon them:_

_Enter, stranger, but take heed_

_Of what awaits the sin of greed,_

_For those who take, but do not earn,_

_Must pay most dearly in their turn._

_So if you seek beneath our floors_

_A treasure that was never yours,_

_Thief, you have been warned, beware_

_Of finding more than treasure there._

Tom at once knew who had stolen it. His eyes narrowed to slits and he followed the Goblin inside.  _A pair of goblins bowed to him through the silver doors and he was in a vast marble hall. About a hundred more goblins were sitting on high stools behind a long counter, scribbling in large ledgers, weighing coins in brass scales, examining precious stones through eyeglasses. There were too many doors to count leading off the hall, and yet more goblins were showing people in and out of these._

The goblin he was looking for was barking at the woman who was hearing nothing and was standing in the middle of the room now.

"The goblins of Britain,"she announced. Her dark eyes were unfocused as she spoke this. Everyone had stopped in their tracks where they were. Tom looked straight at the girl and then around himself, not really understanding why they all had stopped,"It is I, Grindelwald, inviting you to join me yet again. This shall be our last proposition for you.I promise you your desires, your rights. Everything equal as return, I only ask you to leave Britain and join me here in Europe. I promise you order and wealth and equality. I promise you respect. Join me and you shall find all your worldly desires fulfilled. Refuse and you shall perish in my reign. I await your owl."

And after the speech was over, the woman took a knife from a nearby goblin in both her hands and plunged it straight to her stomach; crying out loud in pain, she fell to the ground. People around her ran. The goblins looked angry as they pushed everything off the counters and jumped to the ground off their desks. The wizards and witches shot spells in the air and some on the ground while running. Tom could hear faint murmers of 'Crucio', 'Expulso','Bombarda'. The magic around him was vibrating and multiple in terms which made him a little dizzy because he hadn't felt so much magic before. There was magic he could feel before they even cast it. There was magic he could hear before they spelled it. Magic. Magic. Magic. His nerves were chanting the same tone.

Everywhere around Riddle was blood, because the goblins were now replying the wizards with their own brand of wandless magic and armour and chaos and yet he couldn't take his eyes away from the woman. As someone pushed him sideways to get to the door Tom was jolted out of the trance.

He walked up to the woman who was lying in a pool of blood, recognized his missing coin sack attached to the waist of her dress and snatched it before anyone noticed. Tom assumed it had attached itself to her when she had pushed past him. He stood up and made his way back, crawling towards the exit, so as to not get in the middle of something.

Tom understood one thing that day. He had more rights than a goblin and the goblins were simply being ruled by the wizards.

He was above them.

The thought of being above above someone in the means of respect and rights made Tom happy for some reason. He looked up to see the Goblin who had sneered at him not minutes ago; he was hurling a knife at a wizard whose back was turned to him. Tom raised his wand and remembered the first spell he had heard. 'Crucio' and just so he shouted it.

The goblin dropped the knife, his mouth opened and closed as if trying to say something, he screamed at last and fell to the ground but he looked normal when he fell. The goblin looked sideways and pinned him with a glare while picking a knife with his left hand but as soon as he touched it a spell shot by a nearby wizard which flew by the shoulder of another wizard who was shouting for peace frantically, hit the goblin square in the chest and it set him on fire. The wizard who was shouting for peace earlier looked back and Tom noticed the auburn hair just now. The blue eyes of Albus Dumbledore were filled with pity, anger and a hint of sadness.

Dumbledore looked at Tom and then at the Goblin and then at the door. He then turned around trusting him that he will follow his instructions. Tom noticed the goblin was still alive, whimpering and slowly dying but still alive. He looked at the back of Dumbledore's head and grunted in frustration. Why did Dumbledore always expected him to follow? and even if Tom didn't want to follow Dumbledore, he grudgingly concentrated on the goblin. His body floated and Tom ran past the entrance with the goblin as fast as he could to a hospital.

And with one last look at the fighting figure of Dumbledore, whose blue twinkling gaze sent chills down Tom's stomach today as Dumbledore looked at him with fury. Tom left to find a hospital with the goblin, terrified and fearful.


	5. The Pureblood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pureblood, What an idiot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This will follow canon. Don't get your hopes up. Tom Riddle won't turn into a muggle lover.

Pureblood.

What an idiot.

Tom studied the blond haired boy from the corner of his eye. Abraxes Hyperion Malfoy. What an idiot.

The day had been quite eventful for Tom. First, he had boarded the Hogwarts Express. As unreal it had seemed, his transport was not a flying carpet but a magical train. He had gone through a barrier of sorts, the kind which almost made him wonder if wizards were simply fascinated by walls. Diagon Alley had a wall. The entrance to the platform had a wall. The entrance to St. Mungo's had a wall.

Couldn't they just put something normal, like a door?

Tom understood nothing was normal. Normal simply did not exist. Normal was abnormal in a way. But having to run into walls every time he wanted to go somewhere, especially when you are being told that you have to run face first into a brick wall, is simply idiotic.

That might have something to do with the fact that he had actually ran into the wall of Platform nine instead of ten and flown two feet backwards, with a bloody nose.

And then he had ran into Dumbledore who had to show him the correct wall to run into. Gleefully, Tom assumed.

Dumbledore might be superior. Tom might even not be on the same level as Dumbledore. Forget the 'might' - Tom knew he wasn't. Tom wasn't foolish enough to think he was superior to Dumbledore but he couldn't help but think that there was some kind of unsaid competition between him and the auburn haired professor. Tom opposed everything Dumbledore supported. For example- Nobility.

Nobility was foolishness in disguise, according to Tom. Where did nobility lead you? Nowhere. Except in fairytales, where there was always the good guy that won and the villain, the beast of the story, who was opposed and killed for his nature. It was like someone was called hero for forcing the fish out of water because it was inconvenience to him that the fish was living in the water. That was nobility.

Dying for someone was noble too, but if you died for someone, how would they learn to protect themselves? And once you were dead, they would perish too, because you never let them learn the lessons of survival and worthiness. Tom might have opposed nobility, but he respected it too. It was honorable to die when completely necessary. But he would never be honorable enough to die for someone or something. Tom knew you didn't need to die for the cause. There were other ways. And if somehow the need arose, he would die for no one but himself - after all, did the whole world die when a orphan was left at a door where he didn't belong?

Tom shook his head. Fools were noble, not him. Never him.

The blond haired boy was the third event of the day. As soon as Tom had entered the compartment, the blond had too, and the nonsense had sprouted off out of his mouth at once, pureblood, mudblood, legacy to the time of Circe. As if Abraxes could possibly tell that the first man on earth was magical and belonged to his line.

Idiot.

Tom had dug though the history, present and predicted future of the wizarding world. Purebloods, halfbloods, even mudbloods and halfbreeds littered the pages. There were wars, all over the place. He had bothered to dig a bit deeper than most did.

The side which had power always won. It was only power. Power some gained, power some wanted, power some snatched from others.

There was only power and those who were to scared to seek it; take it.

He had begun to discover the Hogwarts power balance as soon as he had met the blond kid. Purebloods, mudbloods, and the ones in the middle- Half blood.

Tom didn't knew his family history, but he knew he had to choose a side even then. As far as he had seen in his four hour Hogwarts ride, Diagon Alley and history books. The Pureblood's were bullies and wizarding worlds own, the Mudbloods were the normal children who minded their own business mostly but gave a good one when provoked and the Half bloods, Tom's favorites, who went where it would benefit them. They were the grey between black and white.

Tom had chosen to observe first rather than choose sides right away and when Tom had said nothing to Abraxes' question (which was as expected, "are you a pureblood?" ) Tom had chosen to ignore the kid.

He had simply shrugged. Abraxes had taken it as a insult and pointed his wand at him while saying some nonsense about how he came from a family of the richest purebloods and should be respected.

Tom had replied with a stinging hex.

Oddly and stupidly enough, for Abraxes, Tom had managed to impress the kid. According to Abraxes, Tom was definitely a pureblood because he had such control over his magic at this age. Yes, the stinging hex (which made Abraxes shoot backwards and right into the nearest window) was impressive, as the hex was a level four spell, but even Tom knew there was a fine line between respecting your enemy and going all googly eyed on them. Abraxes had done just the latter.

Pureblood, Tom scoffed.

What an idiot.


End file.
